My Town

As soon as I saw today's photo challenge topic, "My Town," I was dismayed. The closest I've ever come to having a town is adopting Las Vegas in my mid-thirties, and since I've left, well, I can't imagine the words "Rainbow Boulevard will always be home" coming from my mouth. Turns out it was more of a fostering than an adoption. As if I'd ever commit to a place with such little rainfall, but the illusion worked while it lasted.

The obvious and less bizarrely pedantic-over-possessive-adjectives option is, of course, photographing the town where I am right now.

But! I can't do that.

I want to, but until my spouse visa application is approved, claiming this town as my town seems presumptuous and more than a little unlucky. 

[Silly Anxiety Sidebar: That's ridiculous, though. Why wouldn't my spouse visa be approved? Mike and I celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary two days ago, and we were together (albeit rarely physically together) for ten years before that. I shouldn't be worried that it's been two months since the last of the paperwork was submitted. Silly, silly! However, I'm letting myself be irritated that it would have been four months, except my visa medical results weren't transmitted in August like we'd assumed. No, silly, I should be reassured that the immigration website says six months is the average wait, and the paperwork for my bridging visa says to not even bother contacting them with concerns until thirteen months have passed. But is all this from the moment you lodge your application or the moment you submit the last bit of evidence? I assume the latter, but it has been six months since the former. Fingers crossed so hard in the hope of imminent good news that any future as a professional zills player is now unthinkable.]

So what is "My Town"?

One of my deleted posts after The Back Stuff began was about how I was finally going to set up one of those five-year diaries on index cards that for awhile were a darling on Pinterest. I'm amazed with myself to report that I actually sorta did it.

I did unwrap 365 index cards. I did stamp each first line with "20 14" (with a space in the middle because my tiny acrylic calendar number stamps bought on clearance are pudgy and don't include years, and are also insanely easy to lose, so "1 1" is also how I must express eleven.) I did pull out each and every cat's eye ink stack I own and used no fewer than five different colours for each month when stamping the cards. I did create an assembly line process to stamp the day on each card... until about the 14th of each month... when the new year had rung in and I was very tired of trying to hover over the dining table while maintaining perfect posture when another fave from Pinterest came to mind:

Then I told myself that writing in the day later on the rest of the cards for each month surely couldn't look any worse than my attempts to create some sort of "grotty chic" that happened each time I failed to press my blubby little stamps down neatly. Besides, despite the standard-issue Pinterest Inspirations-vs-Aspirations Trap, it's not really about how the cards look. It's about which moments I choose to nail down in under two lines each day.

Five-or-Whatever-Year Diary Index Cards

You'll notice that I didn't stamp "2015" or even "20 15." If there comes a day this year when I want three lines, then I'm taking three lines. This is my town, after all.

03 January 2014 |






Carnival Elation (2009)
Carnival Splendor (2009)
Carnival Spirit (2010)
Carnival Spirit (2011)
Carnival Splendor (2011)
Norwegian Pearl to Alaska (2012)